


Illya's First Cooking Lesson

by alynwa



Series: Sugar and Spies Tales [42]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuation of the story started in the drabble "Guess What?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illya's First Cooking Lesson

The family sat in the kitchen the morning of the Fourth of July, Napoleon at the head of the table and Illya and Leona on either side of him.  “Your mission today, Papa, is to make the filling and stuff deviled eggs, make a tossed salad plus a pasta salad.  I’ve already boiled, peeled and separated the yolks from the whites.  The macaroni is cooked and cooling.”  He pointed toward the kitchen island.  “Everything you’ll need is there.  Leona.”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“Your job is to make sure that Papa does a good job.  You know how I make things; you tell Papa what you know.”  He held out his arms for her.  “Come, I want to show you something.”  He picked her up and sat her on one of the stools at the island.  There was a head of iceberg lettuce cut into eight pieces sitting on a plate next to a bowl.  “You’re going to help Papa make the tossed salad.  You’re going to do this,” he announced as he picked up a piece to put in her hands and got a piece for himself.  He began to separate the lettuce leaf pieces and place them into the bowl.  He smiled with pride as the four year old began to imitate him with a serious look on her face.

“Like that?”  She giggled when he kissed her forehead.

“Exactly like that!  You’re a better chef than Papa!  That’s why I’m leaving you in charge of the kitchen.”

Illya rolled his eyes and came over to sit at the island.  Eyeing everything suspiciously, he asked, “And what will you be doing, O Great Leader?”

“I’ll be out on the terrace prepping the grill, starting the fire and eventually, cooking the ribs and chicken.  You two behave yourselves,” he teased as he headed out onto the terrace.

“Well, I suppose I should get started,” Illya said.  He slid the bowl of yolks in front of him and picked up a spoon.

“Papa, Daddy uses a fork to mash the yellow part.  He says that’s better.”

“Alright,” he replied as he dutifully put down the spoon and picked up a fork.  “What else does Daddy do?”

“Well, he puts salt and pepper, maynaise and mustard and mixes it all together after he mashes the yellow,” she answered as she carefully pulled the lettuce apart.

“Mayonnaise, my darling.  I see.”  Illya picked up the peppermill and began to grind quickly.

“Papa, stop!”

“What is wrong, Daughter?  I am adding pepper to the yolks.  I have mashed them already.”

“Daddy says put things in slowly and taste.  Daddy says you can add, but you can’t take away.  He stirs it and tastes it.”

Illya was about to say something snide and sarcastic about Napoleon’s “tastes,” but one look at the earnest little face looking up at him completely disarmed him.  “Then that is what I will do,” he said solemnly.  He added each ingredient, stirred and tasted.  Sometimes, he added more and sometimes, he was satisfied with what he had done.  He had finished making the egg filling and mixing the pasta salad.  He was now ready to assemble the tossed salad.  “Leona, what do you want in this salad?  You did such a good job with the lettuce, I would like to know what you think makes tasty salad.”

Leona was really happy that Papa thought she did a good job.  _I must be a very good helper!_ , she thought happily.  “I like tomatoes, cucumbers and sugar peas.”

“Excellent suggestions!”  He washed and sliced those ingredients and tossed them into the bowl.  “I like celery, carrots and green peppers, so those will go in also.”  When he finished adding those he said, “How about you take a little taste of everything and tell me if you like it?” 

“Oh yes, Papa!  All this food is making me hungry!”  Leona watched as Papa got a small plate and placed a tablespoonful of pasta salad and a bit of tossed salad with some French dressing.  He filled one deviled egg and then cut the half in half, putting one on her plate before popping the other quarter into his mouth.

He poured a small glass of milk for her and watched her eat.  “Papa, this is good!  You can cook!  I’m _proud_ of you!”

Illya laughed out loud and came around the island to hug and kiss the toddler.  “I thank you, Daughter, that is high praise, indeed!  Go tell Daddy that you supervised me well.”  He set her on the floor and she took off for the terrace while he turned to the tasks of covering the salads and filling the eggs.  _I have to admit, everything came out well._

Hours later, Napoleon, Illya, April and Mark were relaxing on the terrace.  Leona was asleep on the chaise lounge.  Papa and Daddy had promised to wake her to watch the fireworks.

“Napoleon, Darling, everything was positively delectable.  I’m stuffed, but I can’t stop eating these deviled eggs, they’re marvelous!”

Mark nodded his agreement as he had a mouth full of egg.  Washing it down with a swig of beer he remarked, “You did do something different to them, Napoleon.  What was it?  I really like them.”

“I let Illya make them.”

Illya colored a bit and said, “I did two things that made all the difference.  I added a little cumin to the egg yolk mixture and did what my sous chef told me to do.”  He pointed his chin in Leona’s direction.  “She really was quite helpful and took her supervisory duties seriously.  She also had a hand in putting together the tossed and pasta salads.”

April laughed, “Now I am impressed!  Not only are the eggs wonderful, the salads were tasty, too.”

“I agree,” Napoleon said, “I think I’ll have Leona teach him how to roast a chicken next.  Don’t look at me like that, Illya.  She watches me cook and she’s very observant.”

“That is what I am afraid of; she is a little taskmaster in the kitchen.”  He checked his watch.  “The fireworks start in twenty – five minutes.  Let us put away the food and then wake Leona Nicole.”

They finished and settled in just as the first strains of patriotic music came out of the radio Napoleon had placed in the window.  The fireworks lit up the East River and cheers could be heard from the streets below.  Leona sat on April’s lap and took it all in stride.  She wasn’t afraid at all.  April grinned and whispered in her ear, “You are just like your Papa!  He likes explosions, too.”

When the display was over, the four adults went into the living room.  April handed Leona off to Daddy after kissing her goodnight.  “It’s time for us to go,” she said, “We all have to be in the office early tomorrow.  Goodnight, Darlings.”

Mark shook each man’s hand.  “’Night, mates.  Thanks for inviting a Brit to celebrate.  Glad to see you don’t hold that whole taxation without representation thing against me.”

Illya locked the door behind them and reset the alarms.  “Are you ready for bed, Daughter?”

“I want to stay up with you and Daddy,” she said as she rubbed her eyes.

Napoleon leaned her toward Illya so he could kiss her cheek.  “Tell you what,” he said, “Papa and I will run a bath for you, I’ll wash your back and Papa will lay your pajamas on your bed.  You put them on and get into bed.  If you’re still awake in ten minutes, I promise we will bring you back into the living room with us.”

Twenty minutes later, the two men were sitting in the living room, each with a drink in his hand.  “What are you going to do when she is able to stay awake?” Illya asked.

“Think of something else, I guess.  I have to tell you, Partner Mine, I thought you did a great job.  Thanks for helping out.”

Illya raised his glass.  “It is time I learn to be useful in the kitchen.  I cannot be the only person in this house who cannot cook.”  He clinked his glass against Napoleon’s.  “Happy Fourth of July.”

“Back at you, Illya.”

 


End file.
